


Neon Pink

by floralathena



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Care Not For Gender Norms, Bucky Barnes's Hair, Clint Is a Good Bro, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, old-fashioned slang, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralathena/pseuds/floralathena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, In Which Bucky Barnes Makes A Long List of Perks of the Modern Age and Two Frozen Supersoldiers Fall in Love All Over Again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gatorade

**1\. Gatorade**

Completing his workout for the day, Bucky almost managed a smile at the sight of Sam Wilson. When he had first returned to Steve, when everything was unknown and ambiguous except for the flaxen-haired man with the odd smile, Sam Wilson had been an untested variable. Bucky had been wary. He couldn't quite decide if Steve's endorsement was trustworthy, considering the fact that Steve Rogers trusted and often turned his back to the world's most notorious assassin without a thought. Sam soon proved himself, playing therapist only when he was called upon to do so and being a supportive friend and all-around great guy the rest of the time. However, Sam couldn't exactly keep up with two superhumans crafted for physical strength and endurance in their daily workout.

Chest heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead, the (younger? Bucky wasn’t quite sure) man walked over to grab something out of the state-of-the-art refrigerator in the Stark Tower gym. He emerged with a bright red beverage in an oddly-shaped plastic bottle. Bucky must have worn his curiosity on his face (Something he was proud of. It had taken him three months to begin smiling at Steve's worst jokes, even if it was more of a grimace, and another month after that to allow himself to show other emotions besides anger and confusion.) because Sam grabbed another bottle and tossed it in Bucky's general direction.

Glancing to Steve for a clue of what to expect, Bucky froze. Steve’s chest was moving hard and fast, and some small wisp of a voice whispered in the back of his mind _“He needs to sit down, boil some water, see if we have any of his cigarettes left, they make his heart beat fast but at least they help him breathe, is his face going red, what-”_

“Buck? Are you alright?”

Bucky took a deep breath and, unable to find the proper words, nodded. He looked at Steve to give him a reassuring smile, because Steve could never just take a nod as an answer. Steve now had a drink as well, but his was blue. The muscles in his forearm and his biceps flexed as he twisted the cap off, head tilting back to drink the liquid. His hair shone like gold with sweat, amplified by the bright white light of the gym. A drop of the blue drink, a bit darker than Steve's eyes, dripped down his chin and on toward-

Bucky realized he was staring. Quickly averting his eyes and uncapping his own beverage, he took a tentative sip before proceeding to suck down the bright red "Gatorade" as if he were a dying man in the desert. It tasted almost sickeningly sweet, but it was vibrant and lively and tasted of the artificial cherry candies Steve had bought him last week. Bucky loved it.

Lowering his now empty bottle, Bucky caught sight of Sam, who had a suspiciously large grin on his face.

"What?" Bucky asked, a shadow of defiance from his days of bar brawls and back-alley punches in his tone.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "You're just so thirsty, man."

Bucky sensed he was missing something. Making a mental note to ask Nat about any new meanings to the word "thirsty" later, he tossed his empty bottle to the recycling bin and headed towards the showers.


	2. Evolution of Dance

**2\. Evolution of Dance**

Steve walked into the apartment, dropping his keys on an end table and flicking on the light. He considered calling to Bucky to let him know he was home, but decided against it when he heard some quiet music abruptly stop. Bucky practically ran into Steve, holding a laptop with a look of awe on his face.

“Stevie, look at this!”

Bucky’s dark, damp hair smelled faintly of that fancy strawberry shampoo Clint had mistakenly ordered online in bulk (“I thought there was a decimal point!” “Why would there be an option to buy parts of a shampoo bottle?” “That’s what I was thinking!”) and subsequently gifted to Bucky “for his luscious locks.” He wore his hair in messy little bun, several strands falling down into his face. Steve noticed he was wearing the obnoxious bright yellow t-shirt reading “DO YOU EVEN LIFT” in large black letters that Natasha had purchased in the mall. She had actually given it to Steve to “replace those skintight monstrosities you call shirts,” but Bucky had requisitioned it for his own use once he realized how much the sight of it seemed to offend Steve. The shirt was about a size too big on him, hiding his figure while showing the edge of a heavily scarred shoulder from behind the stretched collar.

Bucky shoved the laptop into Steve’s face and pressed the spacebar. Steve tore his eyes away from the rare sight of white teeth and crinkles around Bucky’s eyes to look at the laptop screen. The YouTube video was entitled “Evolution of Dance.” The guy began to dance in a style that Steve knew developed a little bit after he had been “put on ice.” Music and dance were Bucky’s things, but Steve could appreciate talent when he saw it. At the end of the video, Steve turned to say yeah, it was cool, but Bucky began speaking immediately.

“Sam sent me the link, it’s so amazing what this guy can do, and even though he’s a comedian it actually showcases the changes to dancing over the years really well. I was actually thinking of doing something like it, but with a partner, I think Natasha would be willing to do it with me, don’t worry, I know you’ve got two left feet. We could go all the way from the Lindy Hop to twerking, and I know I’m being a nerd or whatever, but I’m really excited about it and would you be willing to help me decide which songs to include and film it?”

Steve grinned.

Bucky sighed and put down the laptop.

“You’re an ass.”

“You know it.”

“Steve, would you _pretty please_ help me out with this?”

“I don’t know…”

“Fuck off, I'll ask Sam." Bucky moved to leave and Steve grabbed his wrist.

"Naw, Buck, fine, I'll help, you know I will," Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and began to sway. "We can dance all you want."

"You're an asshole."

"I'm _your_ asshole."

"... You're lucky you're so damn cute, punk."

 


	3. Books

**3\. Books**

The book sat on the counter, a bright yellow sticky note on the cover. It was written on in Russian, so Steve called for Bucky. He had long since learned to accept that Natasha can get into their apartment whenever she wants. Since she usually left gifts rather than traps, it was a nonissue. Steve watched curiously as Bucky read the note before lifting the book to reveal a pad of neon pink sticky notes and a matching highlighter.

"Steve, could we postpone movie night?"

"Sure, Buck."

"Sorry, I know you were really excited about tonight."

"No, it's fine. Actually, if you think you'll be done with the book by tomorrow, I want to show you the Lord of the Rings trilogy all at once, so we'll need the whole day."

Bucky gave Steve one of those tiny smiles reserved just for him. He grabbed a bottle of strawberry Gatorade from the refrigerator (which actually had an entire shelf full of the stuff, because it was Bucky's favorite flavor and hard to find in stores) and, school supplies in hand, curled up on the couch. Bucky had sat directly next to a lamp, which told Steve that he planned to read into the night. Steve just smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of Bucky's head as he passed. He could watch The Office on his laptop; the living room was Bucky's for the next few hours.

Bucky pulled his hair back with one of those thick athletic headbands he had been gifted by Bruce. The scientist had tossed the packaging onto the counter while Bucky was reading TIME magazine. Bucky had been offended by the obnoxious orange, blue, pink, and yellow headbands until he realized that his right hand was up in his hair, at which point he lowered his hand, allowing a curtain of dark hair to hide his face from Bruce and obstruct his view of the magazine. By the time he had unpackaged the headbands and chosen one, Bruce was gone. It was now habit to wear one whenever reading, and Bruce always went on the defensive whenever Tony teased Bucky about his apparently atrocious accessorization skills.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post was the name of the novel. The cover showed a girl atop a hay bale in the middle of a field. Bucky wondered if it were a historical fiction novel, given to him by Natasha in an attempt to further jog his memory. The girl appeared to be wearing modern clothes, however, so he rejected that thought quickly. Natasha's note hadn't specified why she thought he would like the book, only that he would and to "prepare to drown in emotion." Natasha had been very clear that it was his copy and that he could, and should, mark his favorite parts. The book opened on “Part One: Summer 1989.” It wasn’t exactly historical, but the setting wouldn’t be as technologically advanced as he was growing accustomed to in this new age.

Feeling sufficiently prepared, Bucky took a deep breath and turned the page.

* * *

Steve awoke around midnight. Blearily feeling around, he ascertained that he was exactly where he had fallen asleep: an empty bed. Bucky hardly used his own room these days. Neither man liked being alone or cold, and being woken by a loved one rather than an AI after a bad nightmare helped. An instinctual panic arose in his throat before he remembered. Natasha the book fairy had returned yet again. Sitting up and putting on the Captain America slippers that Bucky had bought “ironically, buddy, get with the times,” Steve wondered if he had fallen asleep on the sofa again. He would complain about his neck in the morning if Steve let him sleep there the whole night, but it would be better than waking him to move and then dealing with a whiny, sleepless child of an assassin.

This problem did not present itself. When Steve arrived in the living room, Bucky was wide awake, almost done with his novel. Steve spotted several spots where Bucky had placed a post-it, and the tip of his highlighter was slightly worn.

“Oh, Steve! I’m, uh, just about, um, done,” Bucky was sniffling, wiping at his face quickly. “Could you wait up? I won’t be long, Scout’s honor.” He looked up to Steve with a smirk that called forth loud, bustling voices and the smell of smoke mixed with raw fish and brine.

“You got kicked out of the Scouts a week after you joined.”

“Aw, move along, I’m readin’ here.”

About fifteen minutes later, when Bucky slid into bed, Steve rolled over to face him.

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? Go to sleep."

Steve gave Bucky a smile, pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, and snuggled down into the bed.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through red curtains spilled into Steve's eyes. Squinting, he reached to scratch his nose. His left hand met a post-it note.

Rubbing his face and wondering how on Earth Bucky always managed to wake up before him, Steve inspected the note. In Bucky's scratchy handwriting it read, " _You can't catch somebody doing something when they're not hiding_."

A quote from the book. Smiling, Steve reached over to his nightstand where a new notebook lay, containing so far a rough practice sketch of a hawk (Clint's birthday was approaching) and a small collection of Natasha's various hairstyles. After pressing the note onto a blank page, Steve got out of bed and followed the smell of bacon.

* * *

For the next few days, Steve found quotes everywhere. Bucky refused to comment, only giving him cryptic smiles. " _Let's rock this shit_ " was posted on the door to the gym.

His bedroom door read " _But I couldn't ever make that dream happen. It just came on its own, the way dreams do_."

Tony walked around an entire day with " _How could I pretend to be a victim when I was so willing to sin?_ " stuck to his shirt.

Clint nearly died laughing when, the day after the frozen oldies were introduced to American Horror Story, Tony found “ _I don’t like nuns… Never liked ‘em. Nuns are fuckin’ creepy as shit. They’re creepy. Married to God? What is that? That’s fuckin’ psycho_ ” on the TV.

Steve smiled when he saw " _...and there I was sending all the wrong signals to the right people in the wrong ways_ " on his laptop.

Steve cried when " _I told myself that I didn't need any of that shit, but there it was, repeated to me day after day after day. And when you're surrounded by a bunch of mostly strangers experiencing the same thing, unable to call home, tethered to routine on ranchland miles away from anybody who might have known you before, might have been able to recognize the real you if you told them you couldn't remember who she was, it's not really like being real at all. It's plastic living. It's living in a diorama. It's living the life of one of those prehistoric insects encased in amber: suspended, frozen, dead but not, you don't know for sure_ " appeared in tiny, cramped letters on the bathroom mirror.

A week after the LOTR marathon, Bucky greeted Steve at breakfast with " _Maybe I still haven't become me. I don't know how you tell for sure when you finally have_ " written on his chest. The post-it found its way to Steve's notebook with the others and the writer found his way to a day of Netflix and pizza.

The next day, an audiobook entitled A Tree Grows In Brooklyn appeared mysteriously on the kitchen counter with an excess of pink and blue post-its. Natasha proudly wore " _The world was hers for the reading_ " on her chest for days.

Tony ordered extra recycling bins for the tower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Miseducation of Cameron Post and A Tree Grows In Brooklyn are two of the greatest coming-of-age stories ever written, and possibly two of the best books I've ever read.  
> Read them. You won't regret it.


	4. Playlists

**4\. Playlists**

The text was brief: “<http://goo.gl/qKjvDV> why talk when theres songs to say everything for you nowadays.”

Steve tapped on the link and was redirected to the 8tracks app Tony had installed on his phone. Tony had been appalled (Steve! How can you truly discover modern music without weird indie playlists and classic rock selections?) and immediately installed it, all because Natasha had casually mentioned the app, forcing Steve to express his ignorance. It was nice, he could listen to music to suit any mood at the click of the button without having to pay a cent. Paying what was in his mind equivalent to a modern $20 per song on iTunes was vaguely horrifying, regardless of how many times people reminded him that it was simply inflation and a dollar or two isn’t worth too much these days.

The mix was titled "for steve." Steve suspected it wouldn’t just be pop music. Bucky always could be a tin ear, and Steve doubted a few decades of torture and brainwashing could change that. The description gave him pause: “steve, i'm not too good at words these days, but i know you love my storytelling. hope this works out just the same. love, buck.”

Steve pressed play.

* * *

Tony Stark liked music. He also happened to like teasing Avengers. Looking through the “steve rogers” tag on 8tracks usually resulted in several songs about patriotism and sexiness, neither of which Tony was particularly adverse to. This time, however, he spotted something different. Was that…?

Oh, _hell yes_ , it was! With a gleeful smirk growing, Tony pressed play.

* * *

Natasha paused the mix. James really could be quite a sap when he wanted to be. His taste in music was respectable, though some of the songs he had added didn’t quite match each other. It was an amateur attempt at a playlist, really. The themes, genres, and emotions in the songs were all over the place. Natasha pitied him, honestly. And if the Black Widow used a few tissues that afternoon, well, she probably just forgot to take her allergy medicine.

* * *

Thrashing his head around, Tony screamed “NOW I’M JUST NUUUMB!!”

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Quiet, Jarvis, I’m rocking out!”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

_“<http://goo.gl/qKjvDV> Get ready to cry like a little bitch, Barton.”_

Clint doubted a digital mixtape made by one of his teammates could drive him to tears.

“You’re on, Romanov.”

* * *

_“This love came back to me...”_

Blowing his nose, Clint thought of how much he fucking hated Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, and their stupid, angsty, convoluted, bullshit love story.

* * *

_“Where the hell are you”_

“why”

_“I would like to do things to your face.”_

“punchy things or kissy things”

_“Depends on how fast you can get home.”_

“did you like it”

_“What do you think?”_

“????”

_“Just get home”_

“im scared”

_“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and I love you so damn much. Get here.”_

“yessir capn”

* * *

Hitting “send” on this year’s upper management performance reviews to be assessed by HR, Pepper excused herself to go outside and check her voicemail. Tony had called earlier while she was in a meeting, and knowing him, there was always the off chance that somebody had been kidnapped or the world was in danger. Pepper never let a message from Tony go unchecked for long.

“Holy _fuck_ , Pep, music is a goddamn weapon and it should be illegal and _no_ , I’m _not_ crying, but I just wanted to say that I love you and I’m so glad you’re in my life, okay? You’re the smartest, strongest, most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I know the Black Widow, and she agrees with me. I don’t know how I could ever live without you, and I wouldn’t want to. So, uh, yeah. Call me back whenever, I guess.”

She wondered who had gotten Tony drunk and/or tried to kill him this time.


	5. Slang

**5\. Slang**

"Hey, Stark?"

"Yeah, Pops?"

"Is a Cadillac the same thing it used to be?"

"Uh, it's a type of car."

"So... _Not_ heroin, then."

"Heroin? What? Dude, what are you doing on that laptop right now?"

"... Not debating the merits of hydroponic weed, that's for sure."

"Oh my god, you _are_ a dirty hippy!"

"Look, Stark, you're a butter and egg man. Your type either know nothing or everything about drugs. You gonna help me out? I'm trying to be a good Samaritan here, telling kids why drugs are bad, you dig?"

"Butter and egg man? Oh, I get it, it's one of those old man nicknames. You're a real cement mixer yourself, old crumb."

" _Hey!_ Watch yourself, Stark. Ain’t no hall in Brooklyn that can find a better dancer, and the last guy to call me a damned fink got his nose busted in 1939."

"Wait, those are real things?"

"Hell yeah, they are!"

"Oh, dude, my ancient lingo research was right!"

"You're gonna want to watch what you say here, son."

"Hey! Stevie, you know anything about weed?"

"Uh, you’re supposed to smoke it, right?"

"...Yeah, I'm gonna text Sam."

"Y'know, I'm feeling a bit _joed_ , fellas. I'd hate to _take a powder_ right when the conversation's getting good, but I really gotta _scram_."

"It's fine, _pally_. You're one _smooth pill_ and a real _genius_ , you _dangle_ if you have to."

"Ok, that sounded nice, but judging by the _gunsel_ over there's giggling, I'm gonna assume there were some insults in there. I'm appalled, Captain!"

"Hey, what'd I say about the names, punk?"

"So, uh, I'm gonna split, so, uh, catch you on the flip side, pops!"

"..."

"..."

"... Exactly which use of gunsel do you think he meant?"

"Does it really matter, Buck? Kinda true either way."

"It's the principle of it, Steve!"

"Look, I know you, Buck. If anything, you're flattered, regardless of what he meant."

"Principle."

"Move over, my show's almost on."

"Why're you blowin' your wig? Chrisley does not know best, Steve."

"Shush, you egg."

"I'm takin' a sawbuck from your account."

"What's wrong with yours?"

"I may or may not have bought a bunch of stuff off Etsy and the card company called about suspicious activity and I didn't want to tell them that I did indeed purchase the 'Shimmery Periwinkle Garden Fairy Flower Crown' so my account may or may not be frozen."

" _Holy-_ "

"Don't!"

"Hey, I wasn't even reacting to you! Do you even see that awful shirt?"

"America's Next Top Model is possibly even trashier than Chrisley, good Lord."

"Tyra is on point and you can't deny it, Buck."

"I am not dissing Tyra, just her trashy show that encourages unhealthy competition based on looks and drama."

"You are throwing shade on my heart."

"Good. It's too warm. I feel like I'm sitting next to a fuckin' furnace."

"You love my furnace heart."

"I love that you no longer dig your icy feet into my leg, yes."

“You had to go for icy, huh?”

“Sorry. Ice is bad etiquette around guys who kind of died horrible, icy deaths. I just hurt myself too right there, you know.”

“The only dead I am is drop dead gorgeous.”

“Stop.”

“What’s the song you like? I can’t stop, won’t stop moving.”

“You are desecrating Shake It Off. If you ruin Taylor Swift for me I will not hesitate to cut a bitch.”

“She ain’t the Pope, Buck.”

“Is the Pope a positive role model for young girls or a beacon of hope in music, fashion, and kindness? I don’t think so, pal.”

“This Pope is actually pretty keen, if what I’ve heard is true.”

“Cool, Steve, cool. Jeez, catch up, pops.”

“Is that making fun of my age or calling me a popsicle?”

“You’d have to ask Tony, he’s the one who started it.”

“Aw, forget Tony. I think we’re pretty good at this future thing.”

“Hell yeah, we are. Pass me my charger.”


End file.
